


Shacking Up

by miera



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Fic, weir/sheppard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth is injured while off-world and John has to find them shelter for a night</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shacking Up

John looked around in the dim glow of the flashlight, thinking that the word "shack" might be too charitable for the three walls and leaky roof sheltering them. It was more like pieces of trees and some rocks piled together to form a space over the dirt and he honestly wasn't sure if someone had built it – "built" in the loosest possible sense of the word – or if it was an accident of nature. At least the corner of it they were in was relatively dry and the screeching howl of the wind was dulled to a whiny roar.

Elizabeth was leaning against the wall, a hand clutching at her shoulder. She was soaked to the skin, just like he was, but she had a bloodstain on the dark material of her uniform, darker than the rain, under her white fingers.

He knelt, carefully moving her fingers and the bloody bandage out of the way. "Let me see." She winced and so did he, knowing he was hurting her, but he had to determine the extent of the damage. He peeled her jacket off and pulled the torn material of her shirt out of the way as gently as he could.

The big gash from the arrow was still leaking blood at a solid clip. The arrow hadn't gone in completely, at least not past the ends of ragged metal point. He suspected it had struck the collar bone and that had stopped it from piercing Elizabeth's shoulder all the way, which had made it easier to pull out.

She hadn't screamed. He still couldn't quite believe that. Lying on the ground in a strange forest, primitive aliens chasing them, rain pouring down, Elizabeth Weir didn't scream at having an arrow ripped out of her body. Oh she moaned, her jaw clenched so tight there were white lines around her lips, but she kept her mouth shut.

McKay thought they had accidentally trespassed on a holy site by going near the ruins the team had been exploring this afternoon. Elizabeth was along for the ride, on Beckett's orders, ironically. He said she was cooped up in her office too much. The ruins had some Ancient scripts on them, so she came along with the scientists to look around.

Judging by their current circumstances, they'd be selling snow shovels in hell before she went on an off-world mission "for fun" again.

Teyla and Ford had gone with the scientists back towards the gate when the aliens appeared and started slinging arrows. John had started to run in the opposite direction, hoping to draw the brunt of the fire so the civilians would be able to escape. He hadn't counted on Elizabeth instinctively running with him.

That was when she got hit by the arrow. One minute she was alongside him, the next she was kneeling on the ground.

He'd grabbed her other arm and dragged her to her feet, propelling her into the trees, firing his weapon a little wildly behind them.

They had managed to lose the hostiles as darkness fell and the storm worsened. He was pretty sure they hadn't been followed here. That didn't mean the pursuit wouldn't resume at daylight, but it was one less thing to worry about right now.

Assuming Ford and Teyla got everyone through the gate, someone would come back for them in a while. Hopefully in a puddle jumper which would scare the shit out of the natives and keep them well away. But he hadn't gotten any radio messages, and the storm was worsening, and it was nightfall. They might be stuck here a while.

He looked down at Elizabeth. She was fading in and out of consciousness, her skin very pale, her breathing shallow. She was going into shock. He had to get her warmed up and fast.

There was only one option, and he really, really hated it.

John started digging through their supplies, pulling out the tightly folded reflective blankets they carried for emergencies, and the miniature first aid kits. "Elizabeth?" Nothing. "Dr. Weir, wake up."

Her eyes snapped open. "What? Where are we?" Her voice was raspy.

He offered her the canteen and held it as she sipped gratefully. "I'll be generous and call this a convenient shack. It's not much but it'll keep the rain off until they come back for us."

"How long?"

He handed her two aspirin. "Not sure. Maybe not until morning."

She swallowed the painkillers and made a face at the taste. "So we're stuck."

He put the blanket over her and stood up. "I'm going to risk a small fire, if I can get one going."

She coughed. "Sure that's wise?"

He did her eyebrow raising thing. "The natives? I think they've probably gone back to their holes for the night. Plus I doubt they could see us in this mess," he nodded towards the wild storm outside.

He concentrated on hunting out some dry branches and getting the fire started. It was so tiny it was probably going to be almost useless, but he felt better having at least some source of light and heat. When he looked over, Elizabeth was dozing.

John stood up and swallowed hard. "I hope you don't kill me for this later," he muttered. He spread out the other blanket on the ground, then bent over and started untying her boots.

She didn't wake up. John wasn't sure if that was good or bad. His hands froze a couple times before he successfully got a hold of her belt buckle and got it open. It struck him that it was much easier undressing someone when they were helping with the process.

He really shouldn't be thinking about that.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, low and quiet, trying not to really wake her. "Come on, you have to help me here. That's it," his hand tugged on her hip and she groggily pulled her ass up enough for him to get her pants down. He refused to let himself wonder why she would so trustingly allow anyone to take her pants off.

The shirt was going to be trickier, because of the wound. He carefully got her uninjured arm out of the remaining sleeve and gingerly lifted the red cloth up and over her head.

The movement of the fabric against her face was finally enough to shake her out of the stupor. She looked at him, holding her shirt, and then glanced down. "John?" Her voice was higher than usual and he saw panic on her face. He would've laughed if it had been at all funny.

He kept his voice low and soft. "You're in shock and we're both freezing and soaked. We have to stay warm, which means getting out of our wet clothes."

She stared at him for a long minute and John wasn't sure if she completely understood what was going on. The blood stain on the shirt was big, and he had no idea how much more had been lost and washed away in the rain. Before she could start asking questions, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Here, lie down." He helped her stretch out on the blanket next to the fire. "I'm going to tape this in place." He used the band aids from the med kit to fix a fresh bandage over the wound, after applying more antiseptic, which made her grimace. He didn't want to think about what kind of alien bacteria might have been on the arrow and could now be moving freely around in her body. At least the blood flow had eased to a slow trickle now that they weren't running for their lives.

He covered her with the other blanket and stood up. Then there was nothing left to do. He pulled off his boots and began to unbuckle his own belt.

Elizabeth was watching him, looking rather dazed. When he dropped his trousers, her eyes went wide and he couldn't help but grin sheepishly at her. She blushed a bit, turning over on her side, her back to him.

That had to be a good sign, right? If she had enough blood left to blush she couldn't have lost too much.

He tried to remember the last time he had gotten undressed for someone other than a doctor. The answer was too depressing, and he put the thought away. He felt damned uncomfortable about getting under the blankets with Elizabeth with both of them in this state, but there was no other choice. Repressing a sigh, and stripped down to his skivvies, he settled himself on the floor, radio and weapons at hand. At least their boots had held up to the rain, and they still had dry socks. John had really ticklish feet and he didn't think that would help the situation.

He arranged the blanket over them both and now that he was right next to her, he realized she was shaking. "Elizabeth?" he asked anxiously.

"M'cold." Understatement. Her teeth were chattering so loudly he could hear it over the wind.

John did the only thing he could. He spooned up right against her back and started rubbing up and down her arm, careful not to jostle her injured shoulder. He was trembling slightly himself, but he wasn't sure if it was the chill or the aftershock of the adrenaline rush or all of the above. He propped his head up on one arm, so he could keep an eye on her face. "Think of something warm. The Bahamas. The Sahara Desert. Bora Bora."

"Can't." He felt and heard her take in a deep breath. "Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Anything."

He racked his brain. "OK you gotta give me a topic at least."

She glanced at him from half-lidded eyes. "You. Don't know much about you." Her words were slightly slurred and that scared the hell out of him.

"Ah." He cursed silently. He'd never been very good at this kind of pillow talk. Although it wasn't exactly that kind of talk right now... anyway. "Well, I'd tell you about Antarctica but I don't know if that's going to help you get warmer."

"Probably warmer there than here right now." He was relieved to hear a slight chuckle punctuate the words.

"I was there for about a year." He started reciting the facts of his stint on the South Pole, then figured she already knew all of that information since she had his service records. "I got a lot of reading done. When a storm comes up there you can't really do much but watch it snow and that gets surprisingly dull."

Her eyes didn't open. "Wh'd you read?"

He talked about some of the books he'd pushed his way through. He talked about the card games the people stationed at McMurdo would try to invent to pass the time. There had been a group of civilian scientists, not related to the Atlantis project, and their mail had come through the base. He got to fly it out to them periodically, and he told Elizabeth about the scientists. The big, burly guy who had to be pushing 70 who gave John a long, vehement lecture about the dangers of red tides and global warming when John got stuck at their camp during a white out. Then there was the red-headed female ecologist who had taken him to see penguins playing in the water.

It was as he was describing the way penguins weren't nearly as cute or entertaining in real life as they seemed in pictures that he noticed she had stopped shaking. In fact, she was sweating. "How're you doing?" he asked, interrupting himself.

"Better. I'm getting sleepy again though."

He was relieved that she sounded more coherent and at the same time trying not to freak out about how warm she was in his arms. There was nothing else he could do at the moment, though. He was about to resume the tale of his thrilling adventures looking through binoculars at flightless birds when Elizabeth absently snuggled against him, her backside right against his front. His arm tightened around her waist automatically. Her whole body was radiating heat. All his nervousness returned in a rush, along with something else.

He tried desperately to think of unpleasant things. Multiplication tables, animal dissections, Denis Rodman in drag.

It didn't work.

"Uh, John?" Her voice was almost a squeak.

"Yes?" he snapped, feeling his own cheeks starting to burn.

He heard her mutter "sorry" as she pulled away and instantly felt guilty. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's inappropriate. It's just..." He wondered if his face could actually catch fire. At least it would keep them warm. "It's been a really... REALLY long time."

There was a tiny pause. He braced himself for either disgust or diplomatic tolerance, but suddenly he felt her laugh.

Her eyes opened just a crack. "Gee, thanks, I'm flattered."

"Oh, no... I, uh, I didn't mean... " He closed his eyes. He was never going to understand women, not ever, and he really should just give up.

Elizabeth was almost giggling now. He tried not to take it personally. "How long has it been, then?"

Unfortunately their bodies were still close enough for him to feel the laughs bubbling through her and it wasn't helping his predicament. "You really think this is something we should be talking about?"

"John, look at us. I think we're past polite conversation."

She had a point. He thought back. "Over two years."

Now she craned her neck around. "One year in Antarctica...?"

"And one in Afghanistan, plus the training to go there."

Unexpectedly, she was looking at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry. It had to be rough."

John bit his tongue. He was not going to make a crass joke about being ambidextrous and take them all the way into the gutter. "I've had better years. What about you?"

"Me?"

"I think under the circumstances reciprocity is only fair."

Now she was definitely blushing, as he could see her neck turning red even in the low light. "Ah, I think, about... six months."

"From before we left Earth?"

"From now."

So much for his mental picture of her as being a career woman who devoted herself to her work exclusively. "I won't tell if you won't."

"Deal." She yawned wide enough to crack her jaw.

Impulsively, like he did most everything, John reached over and brushed her hair away from her forehead. Elizabeth gave a contented sigh that he decided to write off to the fever he was now sure she had.

"Go to sleep. I'll keep an eye on things."

"Hope we get some warning before the others get here."

"I don't know. It might be worth it for the look on McKay's face."

He felt her laughing again, as she drifted off in his arms, apparently oblivious to the tension in his body. He didn't think she actually needed his body heat anymore, but he remained where he was, watching her face anxiously for any changes, listening intently to the rain and wind, ears straining for noises indicating they'd been found.

Elizabeth's sleep deepened. He could tell she was dreaming and a few times she tossed around, face dark and anxious. He soothed her automatically, fingers combing through her damp hair, but she never actually woke up.

He listened to her breathing and prayed for dawn to hurry. Or barring that, a phalanx of puddle jumpers.

It was a mercifully short night, despite the unabated storm outside. Just as he noticed that there was definitely more light coming from outside their crude shelter, his radio clicked and he heard Stackhouse's voice. No Marine ever sounded so good to him before.

He got dressed at record speed, even for a military man, then knelt down to wake Elizabeth. For a heart-stopping moment, he didn't think she was going to wake up. Finally her eyes opened. She was very pale outside of the flush in her face, and her eyes burned with the fever.

"Come on, our rescuers are on their way." Seeing her disorientation, he reached for her clothes. "I'll help you get dressed." He hoped she wouldn't notice the red in his own face.

She nodded and sat up, arm held gingerly to her side. She looked at him curiously. "Do you have any idea why I was dreaming about penguins?"


End file.
